


dulce et decorum est pro amicus mori

by futuresoon



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Rating will go up, Roleswap, Slow Build, other characters will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 15:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuresoon/pseuds/futuresoon
Summary: Noctis Argentum and Prompto Lucis Caelum were always meant to be friends. What else was meant to happen, well, that's debatable.





	dulce et decorum est pro amicus mori

_It’s a quiet, balmy day. Noctis lies on the grass in the backyard, staring aimlessly up at the bright blue sky. He feels like he could drift off at any moment, although, in fairness, he often feels like that. He’s going to miss naptime when first grade starts next week._

_He closes his eyes, thinking of nothing in particular. Maybe his mom will be home soon. That’d be nice. She probably won’t, but it’d be nice._

_Something small and soft boops him on the nose._

_He sits up in a flash, sputtering and opening his eyes. He doesn’t know what to expect--a neighbor’s cat? Something falling from the sky?--but a little green fox with large, twitching ears and a shiny red horn wasn’t it. Still, that’s what’s looking at him right now, its little black eyes bright and focused while it sits in his lap._

_[Hello, Noctis!] it chirps, the words appearing above its head rather than spoken aloud._

_Noctis rubs at his eyes and looks back at it with a disbelieving expression. Its eyes crinkle in amusement._

_[I’m Carbuncle!] the words say. [I can’t stay for long, but I wanted to say hello! So hello! How are you?]_

_“I’m okay,” Noctis says. “What’re you? How do you know my name?”_

_[Ah, that would be telling,] Carbuncle says. [You’ll find out eventually! For now, I just wanted to make sure you’re doing well. Are you happy, Noctis? Please be honest.]_

_“Uh…yeah,” Noctis says, for lack of anything else. He does wish his mom and dad were around more, but their house is nice and he isn’t starving or anything. The other kids at kindergarten mostly left him alone. No one’s ever asked about his wristband. Everything’s pretty quiet, and he’s fine with that._

_[Good. Very good.] Carbuncle rubs its furry head under Noctis’s chin with a purr a real fox probably couldn’t make, and jumps out of his lap. [I don’t know if we’ll meet again, but I’m happy to have met you now,] it says. [Good luck, Noctis!]_

_Noctis watches in utter confusion as it leaps over the back fence. “…bye?” he manages._

_Then he wakes up._

He stares at his bedroom ceiling, trying to make sense of the dream.

But he’s six, and also still tired, so he falls back asleep and forgets it.

\---

There’s a lot of space between six and ten.

A space that slowly fills, thick like sludge, with his mom and dad being around even less, and leftovers from his mom’s cooking replaced with takeout from the burger place on his way home from school, and the lack of attention from other kids becoming less a relief and more an ache under his ribs whenever he sees his classmates laughing together and talking about coming over to play video games. 

Maybe if the little fox had visited him when he was ten, he would’ve had a different answer.

But there are no more visits in his dreams--or anywhere, really. Just an empty house and a school desk it’s too easy to fall asleep on and fishing magazines he picked up on a whim from a local convenience store, full of ads for equipment he doesn’t want to bother his parents about buying.

Noctis tries not to let it get to him.

Besides, maybe having people pay attention to you all the time and try to be friends with you and clamor for your approval isn’t all that great.

Not judging by the prince, anyway.

“I went to the arcade yesterday, and I saw you got the high score on Justice Monsters Duo. D’you wanna go there with me after school? I know I couldn’t beat you, but it’d be so cool to try, y’know?”

In his seat, Prompto Lucis Caelum gives a shaky smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Uh, I’m kinda busy,” he says. “With…stuff. Royal stuff.”

The boy standing at his desk is undeterred. “How about tomorrow?” he asks.

“Uh, well, royal stuff just keeps happening, you know how it is,” Prompto says. “So busy. All the time.”

Noctis, who saw Prompto go to the arcade three afternoons in a row with two lurking Kingsglaives and an older boy from another school, declines to comment.

“Well, okay,” the other boy says grudgingly. He unpeels from Prompto’s desk. “But if you ever want to hang out, I’m totally free.”

“Same here,” choruses a girl at a desk next to Prompto’s. Similar words are spoken by the several other kids in the immediate vicinity.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll remember that, thanks,” Prompto says, his smile still far from his eyes. As the group disperses, he slumps in his chair and exhales. The open lunchbox in front of him is almost untouched.

The remaining pizza grease on Noctis’ lunch tray slowly congeals. For a moment, Noctis wants to say, _Sorry everyone keeps bugging you,_ but that would make him part of the everyone, so he doesn’t.

At six, when Noctis was perfectly happy being left alone, he’d seen Prompto always grinning and laughing for real. But there’s a lot of space between six and ten, and these days Prompto doesn’t seem to thrive from the attention anymore. Noctis isn’t sure why, and he figures it’s none of his business anyway.

Still, the rare times when Prompto’s smile is genuine are kinda nice.

\---

Noctis’ first instinct when he sees the injured puppy is to call Animal Control.

But he doesn’t know the number, and the thought of asking random people on the street is kind of intimidating, and it doesn’t look _that_ hurt, and his parents won’t be home for a few days, and he half-remembers something small and furry with soft paws and bright eyes, so--so maybe he could just bandage its leg, or something. Before he asks around.

He ends up not asking around.

He names her ‘Snowy’, for her white fur, and suddenly he’s got a friend, sort of. Someone who waits for him at home. Someone who always seems happy to see him, running around his legs and barking the moment he opens the front door. Even if she’s just a dog, she’s there for him more than his parents are. 

So he almost doesn’t mind that he’s still alone at school. Probably none of the other kids are as good at listening as she is, anyway.

Snowy sits quietly in his lap while he reads a new fishing magazine and points out the cool bits. It’s the first time he’s ever talked to anyone about it; his parents were never interested. But Snowy just sits and listens and observes the pages like she can read them too.

Noctis points at a list of fancy new lures. “Look at the names. Aren’t they silly?” _Sweet Jamming, Fatal Roulette, Knife T. Tonberry._ They’re ridiculous, and he wants all of them.

Snowy lets out a small _boof._ Noctis takes it as a sign of agreement.

He’s about to turn the page when she nuzzles at his wristband. He freezes, just for a second, before realizing that a dog is unlikely to know or care about that particular secret. Still, he’s a little nervous as he asks, “You like it? We match, huh?”

Her injured leg is still wrapped in the old handkerchief his parents gave him a couple years ago. He doesn’t have any real bandages. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, and it looks kind of cute on her, even if he has to adjust it sometimes to hide the slightly embarrassing lettering on it. 

“…you wanna see?” he mumbles. 

Snowy doesn’t react, which probably means it was just an idle action and she has no actual interest. But. It’s never been okay to show anyone what’s under his wristband before. But right now it’s okay, right? 

His heart’s beating a little faster than it needs to. 

“Okay,” he whispers, and slips it off his wrist. There, exposed for the first time in front of someone besides his parents, is the barcode even his parents can’t explain. It sits starkly on his wrist, black ink on tan skin. 

Snowy peers at it for a moment, then presses her nose against it. 

Noctis can’t help giggling--her nose is cold and a little wet, and it tickles. His nerves vanish in the face of dog. He pulls his hand away, but not because he’s scared; the mild discomfort is purely physical. “Okay, okay,” he says, while he puts the wristband back on. “Let’s look at the advice section next.”

Snowy yips softly, and curls up in his lap, looking at the magazine with her bright black eyes.

In his ten years of life, Noctis has rarely had such a good afternoon.

\---

But of course it doesn’t last.

Noctis wakes up one morning to find Snowy gone from the little bed he made for her. She isn’t in the house, or the yard, or nearby--he goes around calling for her until his voice is hoarse and the neighbors are giving him concerned looks. The door was locked and there weren’t any windows open; how did she get out? Where did she go? Was she unhappy after all? 

For once, it’s fortunate that his parents aren’t home, because this way he doesn’t have to worry about bothering them by moping around.

Though maybe they wouldn’t notice anyway.

No one notices, in fact--why would they? No one talks to him. Even the teachers don’t call on him much. The majority of social interaction he has in his life is from fast food workers and grocery cashiers, and there’s enough turnover there that they never recognize him no matter how often he buys from them.

It hurt before, but it hurts so much more, now. Noctis almost wishes he never met Snowy, because at least then he wouldn’t know what he was missing.

Then one day, as he silently returns home from school with a paper bag of takeout, he finds a letter in the mailbox.

It doesn’t look like a bill. And it’s addressed to _him._ The idea that anyone would send him a letter is so foreign that he barely processes it while he takes it inside and opens it up.

_Dear Noctis,_

_I hope this letter reaches you in good health. My name is Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. I believe you are the one who found my dog, Pryna._

_My heart was heavy with the thought of losing her. But we were happily reunited, thanks to you. You have my gratitude._

_I had sent Pryna to see Prince Prompto. You’re friends with Prompto, aren’t you? I heard he’s usually too busy to play with his schoolmates, so I suppose you don’t get to see him very often. Regardless, I hope you can continue to be a good friend to him._

Noctis decides Lunafreya is probably one of the best people in the world.

Snowy’s absence doesn’t even hurt anymore--not when someone who’s so nice and kind and probably really pretty and uses fancy perfume on a letter to a stranger thinks he’s good for something besides a napping marathon. Lunafreya doesn’t just think he _could_ be the prince’s friend, she thinks he already _is--_ and that’s--

Well. He’s not going to let her down.

Besides, sometimes he thinks maybe Prompto is as lonely as he is, sort of. 

It takes him a few days to build up the courage, but eventually he finds Prompto in the empty construction area behind the gym, taking pictures of the clouds with the fancy camera he’s probably not supposed to bring to school. Noctis swallows.

“Hey, um, I--” But that’s as far as he gets before he trips over a bar set between two traffic cones.

He lands on the ground with a thud and winces at the impact. It doesn’t hurt that bad, but shame rises in him anyway, for messing up on literally the first step.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Suddenly, Prompto is there with a worried look on his face, camera stowed in his vest pocket. 

“I’m fine,” Noctis mumbles. His face is already warming up. 

“Lemme give you a hand.” Prompto reaches out his hand to help him up, and Noctis takes it, trying not to look at him. He isn’t supposed to make Prompto _worry._

But Prompto winces slightly as he pulls Noctis up, maybe exerting more effort than he expected. “Wow, you’re kinda heavy, huh,” he says.

The heat and shame engulf Noctis completely. He’s so _stupid--_ nobody likes him, why would a prince? Everything about him is useless. He isn’t good at anything besides video games. And right now he’s just a burden, something the prince could only feel sorry for. A waste of time. A pointless distraction.

Noctis pulls his hand away as soon as he’s standing. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and bolts as fast as he can, which isn’t very fast, but is still enough to leave Prompto startled.

Prompto calls out, “Wait, sorry, I didn’t mean--”

Noctis can’t hear through the blood rushing in his ears. He keeps running.

Back at the gym, Prompto grimaces and smacks his forehead with the palm of his hand.

\---

Noctis sits on his bed for a few hours, looking at the letter.

Lunafreya’s never seen him. Or even spoken to him--she doesn’t know anything about him other than that he took care of her dog. Anyone could’ve done that. So she made a mistake, that’s all.

It’s just--

Hanging out with Snowy was really nice. And the other kids all have friends. People bother Prompto all the time, but they don’t really care about him, and Prompto obviously knows it. No matter how many people he’s surrounded by, Prompto always looks alone.

And if being lonely hurts Noctis so much, it must be pretty bad for Prompto, too.

Just because Noctis isn’t worthy of being Prompto’s friend doesn’t mean he can’t ever be, right?

So--so he should work on that. For Lunafreya, and for Prompto, and for himself, too. Just sitting here will only make him feel worse.

Noctis takes a deep breath, and glumly says an internal goodbye to cheeseburgers.

\---

Running _sucks._

It’s the worst. It’s literally the worst. He’s not even going that fast, on his attempt at a morning jog, and it doesn’t take long for every step to become a personal torture. Noctis flops onto the grassy slope next to the sidewalk and wonders, balefully, why anyone would ever do this for fun.

Well, he’s got a better reason than that. Practically a noble one. So he gets back up, exhales heavily, and continues his death march.

It gets a little easier, as the months pass.

Even worse than the running, though, is the diet. Noctis always used to pick the vegetables off his burgers, but now that’s all he’s allowed. Basically everything he used to eat is off-limits; no more fast food after school, no more convenience store snacks, no more cafeteria pizza. He’s never had to _cook_ before, and he’s not really sure how to.

Prompto’s lunches always look so tasty. They’re much fancier than anyone else’s, too. But Noctis doesn’t have anything like that, or anyone who would make it for him. So there are a couple reasons he avoids glancing over at Prompto during lunch like he sometimes used to. Instead, he just grimly munches on a lettuce and tomato sandwich and tries not to think about cheese.

That gets a little easier too, over time.

Every morning, he looks at himself in the mirror and tries to find any hint of change. Is his stomach a little smaller? Do his shoulders have a little bit of definition now? It’s hard to tell. 

There are bad days--days when he thinks none of this is working and he’s just making himself miserable with no benefit, days when he thinks if he has to look at another salad he’ll scream, days when he thinks maybe Prompto wouldn’t want him as a friend no matter what he looks like. There are good days, when small changes are suddenly visible. There are a number of days where he’s too busy thinking about calories and nutrition to notice Prompto watching him from across the room with a curious expression.

There are, ultimately, over a thousand days.

The first day of high school is even more nerve-wracking than that day behind the gym, but there’s a lot of space between ten and fourteen, especially when you’ve spent the entirety of it psyching yourself up. Noctis spends a couple minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, artfully disheveling his hair, smoothing down his new uniform, reminding himself to breathe, and tries to pull off some confident-looking finger guns at his reflection before growing mortally embarrassed and internally vowing to never do that again.

When Noctis gets to the school gates, he sees people already chattering about Prompto, who’s standing off to the side and fiddling with his camera and trying not to make eye contact. Okay. Deep breaths. Watch out for traffic cones. 

“Hey,” Noctis says, waving at Prompto and trying to look as casual as possible. Prompto looks up at him, blinking. “I’m Noctis.”

Prompto’s lips quirk up. “I know, dude,” he says. “We’ve been in the same class since first grade.”

Right. Yes. Casual. “Well, it’s a new year and all,” Noctis says with a shrug. “I figured I’d introduce myself just for the hell of it.”

“Sounds fun,” Prompto says, raising an eyebrow and looking tentatively amused. “Hey. I’m Prompto.”

“Anyway, I beat your high score at House of Zombie Assassins,” Noctis says with a disaffected expression he’s been practicing for months. “Wasn’t even that hard. If you ever wanna try for real, let me know. I could use a decent opponent.”

Prompto’s smiling with his whole face. “Oh, you’re _on,”_ he says. “I was just thinking I should update that old score. Get ready to eat those words, dude.”

“Pfft. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

That night, when Prompto’s going through the day’s photos, he covers his mouth and snorts when he sees that in their selfie after class, Noctis is giving him bunny ears.

\---

Becoming Prompto’s friend goes pretty fast, once he’s actually started.

Two days after Noctis properly introduces himself to Prompto for the first time, Prompto asks, “Hey, do you wanna come over tomorrow? There’s this guy I know who dared me to watch this one horror movie, and I told him I would, only that was a terrible idea because I’m really bad with horror movies. But I can’t back out now, because he’d lord it over me for the rest of my life.”

Noctis, in the middle of eating a tuna sandwich, swallows and says, “Wouldn’t he want to watch it with you, to make sure you didn’t lie about it?”

Prompto shakes his head. “Nah, he trusts me. It’s just that if I watch it with him, he’d _still_ lord it over me for the rest of my life, because, like I said, I’m really bad with that stuff. And I’m sure as hell not gonna watch it _alone.”_

Noctis tries to think about who _this guy I know_ could be, given that Prompto doesn’t have any school friends. Probably someone from the Citadel. Maybe that guy Prompto goes to the arcade with sometimes? In any case, the idea that Prompto already feels comfortable enough with Noctis to embarrass himself watching a scary movie with him is the best news Noctis has heard all day, so he says, “Sure, I’m in. But you’re probably gonna have to leave word at the front gate or something so they don’t get suspicious of a random commoner trying to visit.”

Prompto makes a dismissive gesture. “Oh, don’t worry about that, I already told them about you,” he says. “They’ll let you in. Can’t guarantee no one’ll look at you, but they won’t get in your way.”

Ah, yes, an aspect of being friends with the prince that Noctis really should have thought about--maybe people didn’t pay attention to him _before,_ but they certainly do _now._

Even at this particular moment, he can feel the eyes of their classmates watching them eat lunch together. Curiosity, jealousy, and confusion in equal measure. _What does Noctis Argentum have that I don’t? He barely even talks in class. He’s nothing special. I don’t get it._

Noctis isn’t sure what the people at the Citadel will think about him. They probably know Prompto better, and are either nobility themselves or inured enough to it that they don’t really care. But maybe they’ll be just as curious, but in a slightly different way-- _who is this boy? The prince has never brought a friend to the Citadel before. He looks like some random commoner. Is it safe for him to be here?_

“Guess I should look forward to drawing some eyes, huh,” Noctis says wryly. 

“Speaking as someone who’s dealt with it my entire life, it’s not that big a deal in the Citadel,” Prompto says. He stabs his fork into a piece of grilled fish in his lunchbox. “Besides, I can tell people to stop.”

Noctis shakes his head. “No, it’s fine,” he says. “I guess I should get used to it, if we’re gonna hang out more.” Also it would probably make things even _more_ awkward.

Prompto’s grinning again, even while he’s chewing. Noctis kind of wonders just how lonely Prompto was, to be so enthused by the idea of spending time with a classmate who doesn’t fawn over him.

Not that Noctis has any room to talk, given how much he wishes his parents were home so he could tell them he made a friend.

\---

The guards at the Citadel gate peer at Noctis like he’s a novelty. Noctis suddenly feels very underdressed. Should he have changed when he went home? He did take the tie off, but he didn’t feel like changing out of his uniform entirely. It would’ve led to him getting nervous about which of his casual clothes were acceptable for a visit to the Citadel. The school uniform _seemed_ neutral, but maybe it just marks him as a commoner? There aren’t any other nobles at that school.

“Noctis Argentum, right?” one of them asks. Noctis nods and wonders if Prompto gave them a photo to identify him. Was it that first selfie? Oh gods, not that one. For all he knows, giving bunny ears to a prince is a royal offense.

“You’re clear to go through,” the guard says, giving no indication as to whether or not Noctis inadvertently caused a diplomatic incident.

And then Noctis is in the front courtyard of the Citadel, the seat of Lucis’ power, the most important place in Insomnia, the…home of his friend, really.

It’s very…aesthetically consistent.

Noctis has never seen so much black marble in his life. He knew it was kind of a thing for the royal family--in elementary school, before uniforms, Prompto wore basically nothing else--but it’s one thing to just know about it and another to see it in person. Even the other people bustling through it are mostly monochromatic, with only the occasional splash of a dark, subdued color; a deep purple tie, a dark brown button-up, a jacket in a shade of blue that looks more like the bottom of the ocean than a cloudless sky. And of course there are the glaives, covered in black from their hoods to their boots.

One of them must have noticed him staring, because she walks up to him and says, “Are you a guest here?”

Noctis is almost relieved she doesn’t seem to know who he is. “Um, yeah, I’m here to see the prince,” he says. “We go to school together.”

Her expression betrays no particular reaction. “Understood,” she says. “Would you like an escort to the prince’s apartments?”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Noctis says with a grateful smile. “My name’s Noctis, by the way.”

Her expression changes very slightly, the barest hint of recognition in her eyes. “Right this way, sir,” she says, and begins to walk briskly through the crowd.

Noctis keeps pace with her; it’s nothing compared to the years of running he’s had. As he walks, he can’t help wondering if anyone’s watching him. He definitely stands out, as a fourteen-year-old in a school uniform, but maybe everyone’s too busy to pay attention to him. Well. Not like he isn’t used to that.

The glaive leads him up the main steps and into the front door, opening it for him with a short bow. He enters, kind of uncomfortable with how… _respectfully_ he’s been treated. He’s just some guy, and she’s acting like he’s any other fancy important person here. But maybe that’s a benefit of being a guest of the prince. Maybe she thinks he _is_ important.

A very small part of Noctis thinks, in the back of his head, _maybe you are, to Prompto._

Through the regal stone doors, she leads him to an elevator and gestures for him to enter. He does, and she follows, standing by the long rows of buttons. She presses one of the highest ones. The doors close in utter silence, and then Noctis is left alone in the elevator with someone who could probably kill him in six different ways just standing still.

There isn’t even any tinny elevator music in the background. Just a very faint hum indicating their ascent. Noctis shifts awkwardly on his feet. Should he say something? It’s gonna be a long ride, judging by the number of floors.

Just to fill the silence, he asks, “You looked like you recognized my name. Has the prince mentioned me?”

The glaive maintains her ramrod-straight posture and keeps looking straight ahead of her, not at him. “Once or twice,” she says. 

“He, uh. Say anything about me in particular, or…?”

“I overheard him talking about you with the king,” she replies. “He seemed enthused about your arcade scores.”

Well, that’s something, at least. Probably their friendship will eventually start to extend past video games and selfies.

“Huh,” Noctis says, kind of awkwardly. 

“Indeed.”

The rest of the ride is silent.

When they finally reach the right floor, the humming stops and is replaced by a soft _ding._ The doors open, and the glaive gestures for him to follow her as she exits the elevator.

This floor has significantly fewer people, or at least that Noctis can see. The glaive leads him down a long hallway decorated with sporadic portraits that are probably older than Noctis’ house. He glances at them as they walk; an endless procession of people with black clothes and serious expressions. Prompto’s ancestors, presumably. Some of them are wearing what must be the Ring of the Lucii, small and black and unassuming. Those ones look the most serious of all. They look the oldest, too.

The glaive leads him to the end of the hallway, at a door just as black as the rest of the architecture. She knocks at the door, three short sharp raps, and says, “Glaive Altius with a guest for the prince.”

The door opens a few seconds later, revealing Prompto, looking slightly disheveled. “Hi!” he says. “And, uh, thanks, Altius. Dismissed.”

The glaive gives a short bow and returns down the hallway. Noctis takes a brief moment to take in the sight of what Prompto apparently wears when not in uniform: black jeans, black socks, and what looks like a black T-shirt someone cut the sleeves off. Or maybe it came like that. Noctis doesn’t really know fashion.

Also, Prompto’s shoulders have way more freckles than they did in elementary school. That’s…something.

“Come on in,” Prompto says, opening the door wider and stepping back inside. “Everything cool on the way here? Nobody give you any trouble?”

Noctis shakes his head. “Nah, it was fine,” he says. 

“Great. I was gonna meet you at the gates, but, uh, I kinda got a little sidetracked.” Prompto looks sheepish. Idly, Noctis notes that the main area of the apartment looks a lot cleaner than he expected.

“Don’t worry about it,” Noctis says, and claps him on the shoulder. He looks around the room some more, also noting that even though it’s clean, it still looks much friendlier than the other areas he’s seen in the Citadel. The light is warmer, for one thing, and the walls and carpet are shades of cream, not black. The other splashes of color are much brighter too; movie posters, framed photographs of animals and cityscapes, a wall calendar showing a photo of a sun-dappled forest. There’s a little kitchenette off to one side with a fridge, sink, and microwave. The inside of the microwave looks rather less clean than the rest of the room. 

Noctis drifts over to the photos to get a closer look. “Are these yours?” he asks.

Prompto rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says. “They’re not much, though. Just stuff I found around Insomnia. I wish I could leave and shoot something cooler, but my dad’s kind of a stickler about me staying in the city, since the last time I left went kinda, uh, not well.”

Noctis remembers a time back in early elementary school when Prompto suddenly wasn’t there anymore, and then came back barely verbal. At the time, all they’d been told was that there was an accident in Tenebrae. Later, after he started his “become less of a failure of humanity so Prompto might like me better” regimen, he looked up the old news reports out of curiosity. No wonder a class of eight-year-olds wasn’t given the details. It wasn’t fun, knowing that something like that could happen to someone their age.

“They’re cool anyway,” Noctis says, his eyes settling on a shot of the Wall in the rain, taken from somewhere high up. Here, maybe. “They look like stuff in magazines.”

“Aw, you’ll make me blush,” Prompto says, and Noctis glances back to see that he already is. Prompto clears his throat. “A-anyway, the TV’s right here. Which you’ve probably already noticed. Um.”

One of the other walls has a widescreen TV attached to it, with a video player and a disc library underneath. Several feet in front of it is a comfortable-looking black couch. Well, there probably had to be _some_ concession to the royal aesthetic.

The side of the couch closest to the door has an end table next to it, holding a remote and what looks like a white cardboard cake box with a ceramic bowl on top of it. Noctis tilts his head. “Did you bring cake or something?”

“Oh! Uh, no, that’s--Iggy made popcorn.” Prompto takes the bowl off and opens the box, revealing a large quantity of red-dusted popcorn. “Iggy’s, uh, my advisor. He cooks. I didn’t ask him to make anything, I know he’s really busy today, but he kind of insisted when he heard about it.”

Iggy. Noctis doesn’t recognize it, but he didn’t expect to. He sort of pictures a stodgy old butler. “Is he the guy who dared you to watch the movie?” he asks.

Prompto shakes his head. “Nah, that was Gladio,” he says. “My Shield. Or I guess he isn’t really my Shield _yet,_ but he’s gonna be.”

Noctis knows _Shield,_ at least--Clarus Amicitia is always standing near the king in official speeches and stuff. And it’s mentioned in textbooks, too, in the undoubtedly sanitized histories of the old Lucian kings and queens. They all had a Shield from the Amicitias. He finds it hard to imagine a stonefaced aristocratic bodyguard daring a fourteen-year-old to watch a scary movie.

Prompto crouches by the video player and pulls a case out of the library. Noctis glances over at the cover--and oh _fuck,_ he knows this movie. This is exactly the kind of movie you dare someone to watch. He accidentally saw part of it on TV last year, when the house was dark and no one else was around, and spent the rest of the night curled up under his blanket trying not to think about fingers.

When Prompto gets back up from putting the disc into the video player, Noctis must be making a funny expression, because Prompto immediately looks worried. “That bad, huh?” he says.

“It’s fine,” Noctis says weakly. This is for the sake of friendship. And also helping Prompto get one over on a guy who’s probably kind of an asshole.

Prompto does not look at all convinced. But he sits down on the couch and gestures for Noctis to join him, and picks up the remote, hitting the buttons to turn the TV on and close the video player.

While the menu starts up, Prompto grabs the box of popcorn and pours it into the bowl. He situates the bowl between them. Noctis takes a few kernels, wary of the red powder, and pops them into his mouth. They taste pretty good at first--a little spicy, but almost sweet. He can’t quite place the flavor. Then his eyes widen and water as the aftertaste hits. He barely manages to swallow the raw fiery death laying waste to his tongue.

Prompto, meanwhile, munches on a handful with an unconcerned expression. Noctis gives him a baleful look. “Is your advisor mad at you or something?” Noctis says.

“Huh? No,” Prompto says, blinking. “I guess he did ease off on the flavor, but that’s for your sake, not mine. He said I--” Prompto makes the finger-quotes gesture with dusted red fingers. “--‘shouldn’t scare off my guest for not having the taste buds of Ifrit himself’.”

Noctis suddenly feels very sorry for this advisor.

“…could I get some water?” he manages.

“Oh, sure thing,” Prompto says, sitting up and walking to the kitchenette. While Prompto fills a glass of water from the sink, Noctis puts serious thought into what he’s getting into today: a movie that will scar him for days and food that might do permanent damage to his mouth.

…it’s for friendship.

Besides, he did morning runs for years. He’s not exactly unused to hardship.

\---

Morning runs did not prepare him for this.

“You know, from a cinematographic standpoint, this camera work is actually really-- _I don’t think skin is supposed to do that.”_

“Look at that corner, you can see it down the hallway--it’s not even _moving,_ but it’s so--”

\---

“Augh, her _hand!”_

“This wasn’t necessary! This really wasn’t necessary!”

\---

“Don’t let that shadow be--of course it is! Why wouldn’t it be!”

“The way it’s _wriggling--”_

\---

“Why did Gladio have to say it wouldn’t count if I left the lights on?”

_“I don’t know what that is and I don’t want to.”_

\---

By the time the credits roll and the popcorn is gone, Noctis has lost all sensation in his mouth, which is at least a good distraction from the fact that he’s never going to sleep again.

Somewhere along the line, Prompto ended with one of the couch pillows firmly wrapped in his arms. “I’m issuing a royal decree,” he says faintly. “Gladio is never allowed to dare me to do anything, ever.”

“I thought Shields were supposed to protect their kings?” Noctis says. He runs his tongue across the roof of his mouth in an attempt to restore a little feeling, but it doesn’t help much.

“He’ll probably say it was training or something,” Prompto says. He lets his head fall back onto the couch and stares at the ceiling. “Ignis said there’s no shame in avoiding fights you can’t win. Why didn’t I listen to Ignis? It’s literally his job to be smarter than I am.”

“You _did_ win, though,” Noctis points out. “The movie’s over. You finished it.”

“It doesn’t _feel_ like I won anything,” Prompto says. He sits back up, sighing, and puts the pillow back on the edge of the couch. “It feels like I did something stupid just for bragging rights. That’s not really something to be proud of.”

Almost on cue, Prompto’s pocket buzzes. He pulls his phone out of it, blinking, and thumbs it open. Then he furrows his eyebrows. “Text from Gladio,” he says. “He’s asking if we finished the movie yet.”

Noctis has a sinking feeling. “What, was he timing it or something?” he asks.

“I’m definitely getting a bad feeling about this,” Prompto says glumly. He texts something back. “I told him yeah.”

Several seconds later, Prompto’s phone rings--it takes Noctis a moment to recognize what sounds like an orchestral cover of the chocobo song--and he answers it with a resigned, “There was a lesson in this, wasn’t there.”

Noctis can hear the uproarious laughter through the phone. He can’t quite make out the rest, though, so he settles for watching Prompto look more righteously indignant by the second.

“Okay, well, _I_ got to eat popcorn made by Ignis and hang out in a comfy room with a friend, and I know _you’ve_ had meetings all day, so who’s the real winner here? …yes, I know it’s still you, _shut up,_ you’re fired. Yes, I know you’re not actually on a payroll yet. You’re _pre-_ fired. I’m telling Dad you’re a disgrace to your family name. What do you mean--okay, you know what, done talking now, goodbye forever, I hope you have to redo all the meetings tomorrow.” And he hangs up.

It’s the most animated Noctis has ever seen him when talking to someone. He’s so quiet at school--it’s like he’s a different person today.

Noctis wonders how many people outside the Citadel have seen this version of Prompto. He wonders if maybe he’s the first.

“You seem to get along well with Gladio,” Noctis says mildly.

Prompto groans and flops his head back against the couch again. “It’s usually Ignis who pulls this stuff,” he says. “Gladio mostly sticks to beating the crap out of me in training. If they’ve started to work together, I’m _screwed.”_

“What was the lesson, anyway?” Noctis asks, curious.

“That I shouldn’t let people bait me into doing something just to look cool,” Prompto says. He sighs. “Which I guess is useful. And it probably wouldn’t’ve stuck if they just told me. But it still sucks.”

“Well, even if it was for a lesson, I had fun today,” Noctis says. The most fun he’s had since those long-ago afternoons with Snowy. Though he won’t mention that.

Prompto glances over at him. “Yeah?” he says. 

“Yeah,” Noctis echoes.

Prompto grins. “Screw Gladio, I had fun too. Want to hang out again sometime? Maybe with fewer nightmares next time?”

“Definitely,” Noctis says, grinning in return. “Just hit me up whenever you’re free. My schedule’s pretty open.”

Noctis could get used to that look of raw, slightly disbelieving delight on Prompto’s face. 

Prompto escorts him back to the gates, and it’s much less awkward than it was with the glaive. He still feels out-of-place, but a little less so; he feels like he knows something a lot of them don’t, even if it isn’t very much yet. For the first time in his life, he feels just slightly important.

He’s not sure yet if _that’s_ something he wants to get used to, but whatever, there are worse things. 

The house is still empty when he gets back home. His parents said they’d be gone for another few weeks, the last time they called; now that he’s older, they’re absent even more. But that’s fine. He’s working on that being fine. An empty house seems a lot more tolerable now that the rest of his life is filling up.

He wonders if Prompto would like taking photos of fish.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [futuresoon](http://www.futuresoon.tumblr.com).


End file.
